


Thermodynamic

by Tritogeneia



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-26
Updated: 2003-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-07 01:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10349436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tritogeneia/pseuds/Tritogeneia
Summary: SPOILERS : "The Enemy Within", "In the Line of Duty", "Need", "Thor’s Chariot", "The Tok’ra".SUMMARY : Jack O’Neill is having a very bad day. He has fallen victim to this year’s flu; an insidious virus that not only gives him aches, pains, and congestion, but also inflicts upon him the fever dream to end all fever dreams...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Thermodynamic

He was roasting alive.

Sweat plastered his hair and slickened his skin and just added to the misery.

And worse, he was barely able to breathe.

His heavy lungs burned, and any air they got was brought in through a seared throat.

It was Hell.

It was torture.

It was...

"You have the flu, Jack."

Easy for _Daniel_ to say.

Of course, most things were easy for Daniel to say. He was a linguist. That was the point.

Unfortunately, today, he thought he was a nurse.

Not only had he insisted upon driving Jack home, walking him into the house, and putting him on the couch, the archaeologist was now making tea.

*If he tries to tuck me in, I may have to hurt him.*

Not that he really _would_....

And, at least the colonel had managed to talk him into the couch as opposed to the bed. 

After all, from the couch...he could watch tv.

Ah...television. 

Stimulator of eyes.

Healer of wounds.

Decayer of minds.

Or...something like that.

But nice brain candy was about all his fevered mind would process right about then.

Absently, he began flipping through stations, trying to find something nice and benign. Daniel was going to be coming back in any minute, which would be taxing enough...ah. Perfect. Programming from the fifties and sixties. 

Nice, nonthreatening stuff...

...perfect....

He didn't even last long enough to find out what program it was.

*

In the dream, the sunshine was warm on his face as he lay on the deserted beach.

In the dream, Sara was warm beside him, curled against his chest, exhausted from the effort of walking for two.

In the dream, he could feel their son inside her, warm and alive.

The dream ended.

And the sun warming him was actually just a light.

No one was beside him.

And Charlie was....

Right.

Back to reality.

Sighing, he kicked back the covers to his bed, figuring that he'd better go and check on the dog...

...wait a minute....

...hadn't he fallen asleep on the couch?

If he had...how did he get up here?

He wasn't a sleepwalker...he hadn't gotten up...Daniel sure as hell hadn't carried him...not without giving himself a hernia, anyway.

Which reminded him-- was Daniel still here?

If so, he should probably throw on a robe or something...

He was just looking around for one that matched his pajama bottoms when the door burst open.

And Carter entered.

He felt every square centimetre of his exposed flesh turn bright crimson. "Carter!" he yelled, hearing his voice break in embarrassment. "Don't you ever knock?!"

She just looked at him quizzically. "'Carter'?" she repeated.

And she still wasn't moving... "Yes," he said, feeling the insane urge to duck behind a chair. "That _is_ your name, isn't it?"

She just looked at him a moment more, then shook her head. "Very funny, Dad."

And for a long moment he just blinked.

*_Dad_?!*

He couldn't have heard...she couldn't have...

It was several moments before he found his voice, during which she moved a pace or two forward. "'Dad'?" he asked.

She looked askance at him. "Yes," she replied, in a perfect imitation of his earlier tone. "That _is_ your name, isn't it?"

Okaaaaaaaaay....

"Uh, Ca-- Sam," he corrected himself, feeling reality doing somersaults. "Was there something you wanted?"

She nodded, then wordlessly held out her hand.

There was a jar of mayonnaise in it.

He blinked at it.

It remained a jar of mayonnaise.

Another blink, but mayo it stayed.

Stubborn little condiment, wasn't it?

"I can't get it open," she said, gesturing to the jar. "Neither could Daniel."

So Daniel _was_ still here. 

And he couldn't open the jar of mayonnaise.

Well. At least _one_ thing hadn't changed....

"And," she was continuing, "we didn't want to wait for Uncle Teal'c to arrive."

_Uncle_ Teal'c?!?!

Must be on their maternal side....

"So..." she prompted. "Can you open it?"

Mind reeling, his hands automatically twisted off the cap. "Here you go," he said absently, handing her the jar and wondering just when the psychotic break had come. It was the only plausible explanation....

"Thanks, Dad." And, as quickly as she'd come, she was out the door.

And O'Neill sat down on the bed, stared at the door, and just tried not to think.

*

He'd sat there long enough to wonder where Rod Serling was before a knock came at the door.

*Sorry, Jack's out of his mind at the moment. But if you'd like to leave your name and number at the tone...*

"Uh, Dad?" another voice came, hesitant and unsure. "It's me, Daniel."

Of course it was. Who else would it be? Except for maybe "Uncle" Teal'c...

"Can I come in?"

*No.* "Sure," he said, against his better judgment. Maybe ol' Rod would pop in too...or Allen Funt...

However, it was only Daniel who entered. "Hi, Dad," he said, fixing O'Neill with a clear blue gaze that seemed impossibly innocent...yet somehow, naggingly familiar. "Can we talk?"

Talk?

Daniel wanted to _talk_? To _him_?!

Oh yes. _Definitely_ the Twilight Zone...

"Talk about what?" he asked, watching the younger man warily as he sat down on the bed beside him. Something uncomfortable, by Daniel's expression...maybe something embarrassing...or personal...

*So help me, if this is the facts of life question....*

His fears weren't helped in the slightest when the other squirmed with discomfort. "It's...well..."

Oh, hell...

"It's about my girlfriend."

The colonel blinked, and mentally revised the age thing upward. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure why he'd thought the other would weigh in at age twelve, but.... "Your girlfriend," he repeated. Obviously, the birds and bees had all ready been explained...

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, Sha're."

Sha're. Of course. What else could she be named? And, she'd probably also been--

"She was stolen from me."

*So help me, if this is leading where I think it is...*

"By this new guy...you know the type. Rich, captain of the football team, student council president..."

Not Apophis....

"His name's Apophis."

Check please!

Oblivious, Daniel looked away, but not before the colonel caught the familiar set of his jaw. "I hate him," the younger man said quietly.

*So do I....*

"He's so mean to her," he went on, shooting to his feet and beginning to pace, moving with the taut restlessness of contained rage. "He just orders her around and he hurts her and..."

He trailed off, lowering his head, and the agony he was feeling reached out penetrated the colonel's heart like a hot knife through butter. "I have to help her."

As someone once said, it was deja vu all over again... 

Standing, he moved over and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You will," he told him gently, trying to find something helpful to say, given what the truth was. "You're gonna get her away from that sonuvabitch."

The not-quite-lie knotted his stomach and clogged his throat, but it was worth it to see the light of hope blossom in the younger man's eyes. "You think so?"

Not trusting himself to speak, afraid that the truth that lodged inside him might emerge if he wasn't careful, O'Neill merely nodded.

He was rewarded by the first pain-free smile he could ever recall seeing gracing Daniel's face. "Thanks," he said, blinking young, misty eyes rapidly. "Thanks, Dad."

And somehow, looking at him, while hearing the words...somehow, O'Neill felt the same nagging familiarity he'd seen earlier...what the hell _was_ it?

Of course, what the hell was _any_ of this?

Beyond damned _strange_, that was....

"Oh!"

His reverie broken by Daniel's exclamation, the colonel looked up. "What?"

"I almost forgot," the younger man admitted. "Uncle Teal'c called-- he's running late." 

Teal'c..._late_?

Waves of unreality came swirling back around him, threatening to take him away to a happy land of pinwheels and flowers and straitjackets. "I see."

Daniel nodded. "But he said he'll be here way before your boss arrives."

Boss?

But who...no...wait...he couldn't mean...

Daniel looked at him curiously. "Don't you remember?" he prompted. "Mr. Hammond is coming over for dinner?"

_Mister_?!

*Bad Universe! _Bad_! If there was a stick around I would _so_ whack the hell out of you...*

"Of course," he lied. "How could I forget?"

The younger man's blue eyes narrowed, apparently not buying the lie. "That's why Uncle Teal'c is coming," he reminded. "To cook dinner."

The image of the ever-stoic Teal'c wearing a chef's hat and apron threatened to send the colonel well over the edge into hysterical madness. "Naturally," he managed to get out.

Anybody got a blankie to clutch? Anyone? Just curious...

Daniel still didn't believe him-- it was blatantly obvious. However, being a good son-- and God wasn't _that_ interesting-- he just nodded and pretended nothing was wrong. "Right."

Left, up, and sideways...

"Well," the younger man went on, slightly awkwardly. "I'll leave you to get dressed and stuff."

Oh yeah...in all the confusion, he'd forgotten that all he had on was...his pajama bottoms...oy....

Mercifully, though, Daniel was all ready leaving as the colonel's self-consciousness returned. "Thanks for the talk, Dad."

"Anytime."

*...that I've gone insane....*

The door closed, and once again, O'Neill was alone.

Facing what would likely be one of the all-time _weirdest_ days of his life.

Sighing, he turned to the closet, and tried to figure out just how this could get any worse.

Then he opened the closet door.

And for the first time in years, his jaw actually dropped.

In his closet, there were two types of clothes.

There were suits. 

Black...grey...brown..._civilian_ suits. 

He hadn't worn a suit in probably twenty years.

He hadn't _wanted_ to wear a suit in over twice that.

But the only other option visible was...sweaters.

Those cardigan sweaters that people in the fifties wore, or that college professors wore...the ones that'd make even Sylvester Stallone look like a geek....

And nothing else.

No jeans, no fatigues, not even a pair of ruby slippers to get him the hell _outta_ here.

Just suits.

And sweaters.

And no end in sight. Why was there never a Goa'uld attack when you needed one?

And why, oh why, did the only shoes have to be..._penny loafers_?

*

*God, I feel like an idiot....*

He'd put on a black turtleneck and a pair of beige corduroys-- the least-offensive getup he could find. If dinner was dressy, however...

Well, forget _that_. His house, his rules. 

Of course...looking around the living room he'd descended into...he wasn't entirely sure it _was_ his house.

All his space flight memorabilia was gone...the colours were darker...and Daniel had plunked himself down in the middle of the room, reading...something or the other, and taking notes.

Finally. _Something_ normal. "What'cha reading?" he asked, walking over and glancing down.

Whatever it was...it wasn't English.

It looked like chicken scratches...lots and lots of chicken scratches...

"It's a copy of the _Epic of Gilgamesh_."

Of course. Somehow, he probably should've guessed that....

"I'm translating it into Spanish."

Uh-huh...

Wonder if any pink elephants were going to be coming by?

As though in answer, the doorbell rang.

It wasn't a pink elephant.

It was, he found, a smiling Janet Fraiser.

Holding a...really complicated looking...metal thing.

Had someone slipped some acid into him or something...?

"Good morning, Mr. O'Neill!" she said, _way_ too cheerfully. "You're looking healthy today."

Huh?!

"Is Sam home?"

*I don't know...I'm really not sure if _I'm_ home...*

It took several seconds for him to realise she was waiting for an answer. "Oh," he eventually said, "yeah, she is...Janet." Then, brain slowly adjusting, he remembered to move aside. "Come on in."

She turned her thousand watt smile up to fifteen hundred as she entered. "Why thank you!"

Yeah, whatever...someone's been taking some prozac...

Closing the door, he watched as Fraiser crossed into the room. "Where is she?" she asked.

He was saved from admitting he hadn't a clue by Carter's walking in. "Janet," she greeted. "I thought I-- you got it!"

If O'Neill had thought that Fraiser's smile was strong before, Carter's grin could power the Mir for another decade as she caught sight of the metal thing. 

And he could've sworn he saw her hands trembling as she gently took it into her arms.

"It's _perfect_," she breathed.

What the hell _was_ it?

"What is that?" Daniel asked, looking as confused as the colonel felt.

Carter didn't even take her eyes away from the thingamajig. "It's for my science project."

Naturally. "Volcano?" It was a rule-- everyone had to make paper mache' volcanoes, right? That's what all science fairs consisted of, just rows and rows of the things...

Amazingly, she actually tore her eyes away from it long enough to fix him with a stare. "Particle accelerator," she corrected.

Ah.

Even the _normal_ things seemed crazy....

"C'mon," Carter was saying, starting to turn away. "Let's go install it."

Eagerly, Fraiser nodded, and off they went.

O'Neill just stared after them for a long moment.

Scientists.

Go figure.

Hearing Daniel sigh, he turned in time to see the younger man shaking his head. "Girls," he said, in that familiar, world-weary tone, before returning to his book.

*Tell me about it...*

Of course, anyone telling him _anything_ would be a switch...

Well, maybe it'd all be made better when Teal'c arrived.

But somehow...he just wasn't inclined to believe it.

*

He was right.

Teal'c arrival was announced by a very loud pounding, which was _almost_ strong enough to be heard over the pounding in his head.

Almost.

Thankfully, Daniel was there to open the door before something even worse happened-- like the doorbell. His bell had all ready been rung enough for one day.

At least...he'd thought so.

"Hi, Uncle Teal'c," he heard Daniel say.

"Greetings Daniel Jackson," came the reply...and wait a second...

Why in hell would Teal'c use Daniel's real last name? In this bit of insanity he hated to called "Jack's house", the younger man was playing one of his kids!

This made no sense.

However, given that nothing _else_ made sense...it _did_ make sense.

Or...something like that....

Sighing, he allowed his head to sink into his hands. This was just _too weird_...

And it only got worse when Teal'c entered.

Wearing the full armour of a Jaffa warrior.

And a hat.

Of course he'd wear a hat. Everyone wore hats. Not everyone wore Serpent Guard armour, but Teal'c carried off the look well.

Was there any lithium in the house?

"Greetings, O'Neill," Teal'c said, hanging his hat on a hook and sounding way too normal for comfort. "You are looking well."

If this was well, he'd hate to see sick as a dog... "Hi, Teal'c," he got out. "Same to you."

Of course, Jaffa didn't get sick. Apparently, Teal'c was still a Jaffa. Ergo...Junior was still alive and...wriggling.

Goody.

"Where is your sister?" he was asking Daniel. "I have a gifts for both of you."

Well, at least uncles still brought gifts...perhaps he'd brought some nice anti-psychotic drugs.

"Uncle Teal'c!" Carter's voice came, as she dashed into the room and threw her arms around her..."uncle" or...whatever. "It's good to see you."

*Stop it before I get diabetes...*

The pleasantries continued, all of which he tuned out for the sake of his blood sugar. It was the same old same old-- miss you, love you, what did you bring me?

"A sarcophagus!"

_What_?!

O'Neill whirled around, his heart beginning to pound. No sarcophagi. No more sarcophagi _ever_. Not after last time...

It wasn't until he saw that Daniel was holding a book in his hand that he began to second guess himself.

And it wasn't until he saw the title of _Sarcophagi of the Ancient World_ beneath the picture of a sarcophagus that he completely relaxed.

And it took Daniel clearing his throat for him to realise he'd grabbed it out of the younger man's hand without a word.

Oops.

Feeling a slight embarrassment warming his cheeks, he tried to smile it off. "Cute picture," he managed, handing it back.

They all looked at him for a long moment, then seemed to communally shrug. Turning to Carter, Teal'c reached into his armoured glove. "And this," he said, pulling out a small vial, "is for you."

He handed it to Carter, who's eyes lit up. "Naqahdah!"

What else?

She held the vial close and appeared to be zooming past cloud nine. "Thank you, Uncle Teal'c!"

"I am glad you are pleased." The Jaffa smiled slightly. "And for you, O'Neill," he went on, turning toward the colonel. "I have come to prepare a great feast for your family and guest."

Translation: I'm cooking.

"Uh, thanks, Teal'c." 

*I _so_ hope you can cook.*

Going insane gave one an appetite after all.

Teal'c merely nodded. "I will retire to the kitchen."

And he turned and walked away.

Didn't talk much here either, apparently...

Carter, meanwhile, appeared to be bouncing off walls. "I can't wait to go plug this into my reactor!"

Oh God...that side of the house was probably going to explode or burn up or get sucked into another dimension...

Adding to his fears, she promptly ran out of the room, heading toward the garage area.

He sighed. She took after her mother, Carter did...she sure as hell hadn't gotten her brains from _him_...mainly because they were in no way related....

For his part, Daniel sat back down with his new book, and began to read. Obviously, his earlier desire to talk had been spent.

And, since sitting by himself and thinking would probably send him way off the deep end, he followed Teal'c into the kitchen area.

And promptly stopped dead.

Teal'c, over his armour...now wore a checkered apron. The words "kiss the cook" were embroidered upon it.

Your Jaffa might be a redneck if...

"Do you require something, O'Neill?"

Lithium...lithium...a kingdom for some lithium... "No," he lied. "Just figured I'd come in here, see how you were doing."

*See if you could tell me what in hell is going on...*

Thankfully, the Jaffa seemed to accept that. "I am fine."

That made one of them, anyway.

"Good." Ambling closer in a way that he hoped looked casual, he began looking around at the items on "his" counter. "What'cha cooking?"

Teal'c looked at him curiously for a moment. "I am preparing a pot roast and mashed potatoes," he replied, picking up a potato and peeler. "As per your request."

Meat and potatoes. How charmingly nineteen-fifties. Still, it beat the tv dinners he'd been eating more often than not for the past...while.

The Jaffa was looking at him curiously, a half-peeled potato in his hand. "Do you wish to assist?" he asked, sounding faintly surprised at the thought.

No. Uh-uh. A thousand times, no... "Not unless you want a grease fire," he answered.

Teal'c's eyebrow went up in a rather world-weary manner. "I would prefer not."

He was silent for a long moment, returning his attention to the tubers he was skinning.

*You know, I'm getting the distinct impression he doesn't want me in here.*

Sara had been the same way.

Not that she'd been much in the cooking department either. If he could burn water, she could sear steam. It was amazing they hadn't torched that place....

Well, they hadn't _literally_.

There _had_ been fire there...way too much fire....

Sighing, he shook his head. Thinking about all that was hardly going to help things.

In fact, they may have hurt them.

For Teal'c was watching him quizzically. "Is there a problem, O'Neill?"

You could say there was one. Several, in fact. But it didn't look like the other players in this...whatever it was had any more idea what was going on than he did. "No," he lied. 

The Jaffa gazed at him a moment more, then seemed to accept the statement, going back to work on his potatoes. 

How convenient.

"Well," he said uncomfortably, pushing away from the counter and heading back toward the living room. "I guess I'll leave you to your...thing."

Teal'c didn't even bother to acknowledge his awkward exit.

Nor did Daniel acknowledge his awkward entrance.

All in all, everyone was ignoring him.

For the moment.

After all...his "boss" was going to be coming any time now.

Wouldn't _that_ be fun.

Not.

*

Setting the table turned out to be just as much an adventure as the rest of the day. Between trying desperately to remember which fork went where and determining that the large pincer things on the dining table were Carter's pliers and _not_ some eating utensil, he'd had just about enough.

Then the doorbell rang.

And a hapless spoon bent.

He sighed and wound up having to pry his fingers from the now twisted utensil. The stress was _really_ starting to get to him...

The doorbell rang again.

"Daniel," he called, hearing the frazzled tone of his own voice loud and clear. "Would you get the door?"

Hearing a sigh and a grumbled non-English phrase, he gathered that the younger man was complying.

So, apparently here, this Daniel followed orders. Maybe he could come to reality for a bit and teach his version a thing or two...

...or not. After all, if the real version started imitating this one...that'd just be too mind-blowing....

As he thought these odd little thoughts, the door opened, and General-- no, make that _Mister_-- Hammond walked in.

Wearing a suit.

Oy....

Affixing a smile to his face, the colonel advanced. "Mr. Hammond," he greeted, offering his hand like a good civilian. "Good to see you."

Hammond accepted the proffered appendage. "Hello, Jack," he replied warmly, and the first name thing sounded utterly _wrong_. The only time the general _ever_ called him by his first name was when he was in severe trouble. 

Of course, given that it was entirely possible he _was_ in severe trouble....

"And this," the...boss...was saying, "must be the son you're always talking about." He extended a hand to the younger man. "Pleased to meet you, Daniel."

The younger man nodded and politely shook hands...before excusing himself to continue his translations. 

Kids....

Hammond seemed fairly accepting of this, however. "And where's this daughter of yours?" he asked, looking around. "From what you've told me, she's not making dinner."

Okay, so Carter couldn't cook. He couldn't cook. Taking a wild guess, Daniel was worse than both of them. Was he going to be cursed with eating take-out the rest of his life?

He'd apparently been in the stratosphere too long, since a look of concern flitted across the other's face. "She's _not_ cooking," the older man prompted. "Is she?"

*If I said yes, would you go away?*

"No," he heard himself say. "No, my...brother-in-law is cooking." Yeah, he's an in-law. That's the ticket...

Mister Serling? Hey, Rod! C'mon down...

"Ca-- uh, Sam," he quickly corrected, "is in the garage."

Assuming the garage was still standing. 

Well, it hadn't exploded _yet_...which probably meant absolutely nothing.

"You'll meet her at dinner."

Which was bound to be just a _marvelous_ experience.

*Can't wait....*

*

"You know," Hammond said for at least the twelfth time, "this has to be one of the finest meals I've had in years."

Uh-huh...

"Thank you, Mr. Hammond," Teal'c replied graciously, for _also_ at least the twelfth time. 

Wasn't there _anything_ else they could talk about?!

And why in hell were Daniel and Carter so quiet? They'd both joined them for dinner, they were both introduced to the boss...and they'd sat there like they'd had their tongues removed! Usually, you couldn't get either of them to shut up...

Just another bit of daily weirdness brought to you by...Someone.

A very, very _mean_ Someone.

Someone who was trying to drive him absolutely _nuts_!

With _small talk_...

_Nothing_ but small talk....

What a charming home you have. What a delicious meal this is. What big teeth you have....

It was enough to make him crave a lecture. Or a reprimand. A dressing down would be more enjoyable...hell, he was beginning to think dental work would be more fun than this...

"I've got to tell you," Hammond was now saying, for the tenth time. "Jack here is one of the best men I've got working for me."

Great.

That's nice.

By the way, what the hell do we _do_?!

From the clothes...he could be some kinda businessman...or a banker... or...an insurance salesman...

*My God...I could be..._boring_...*

Well, that was just gonna hafta change.

_Fast_.

However, for the moment...he was going to grin and bear it.

Or...at least bear it, anyway.

Of course, how to do that without his eyes glazing over was an entirely different matter...

Thankfully, just as the potatoes were being praised yet again, the doorbell rang. 

Questioning looks were exchanged. "Expecting someone?" Hammond asked mildly.

Rod, baby, you finally made it...

"Not exactly," he opted to answer, rising and heading to the door.

It wasn't Mr. Serling.

Or Mr. Hitchcock.

It wasn't even one of those "Outer Limits" guys.

"Hello, Mr. O'Neill," Martouf said, once the colonel had opened the door. "Is Samantha home?"

The plot thickened.

Whatever the plot was.

Assuming there _was_ a plot to all this...

He sighed quietly. "Yeah," he told the Tok'ra, moving aside so he could come in. "She's here."

"Thank you, Sir," he replied, carefully entering. 

Yeah. Fine. Sure. Whatever.

Closing the door, he watched as Carter rose and greeted her...friend? Boyfriend? Something else entirely?

Well, given that he was giving her a bouquet of fresh-cut irises...it was probably choice B.

Swell.

Wait a minute...

_Swell_?!

When the hell did he start saying _"swell"_?!?!

That was out of date when he'd been a kid! Which was...well, it was awhile ago.

Carter was now accepting the flowers, and...blushing.

Carter.

Blushing.

He'd never seen her blush. He didn't think she was able to blush. People like her did _not_ blush!

Yet....

He sighed. Next thing you know, Daniel would be starting a fight or something...

And now, as they walked toward him...she and Martouf were holding hands.

*Don't tell me-- met through a mutual friend of yours named Jolinar?*

"Dad," she said. "Martouf and I are going over to the library."

Suuuuuuure they were....

Yet another line which'd been old before he'd hit puberty.

Of course, given that this _was_ Carter they were talking about...

...sorta.

"I give you my word, Sir," Martouf was saying. "I will return with her before eleven o'clock."

AM or PM?

Or was that a moot point?

He sighed quietly. "Yeah, all right," he finally consented, figuring she'd just sneak out if he said no. And doing the grounding thing had never been one of his favourites. "Have fun."

*And if you have _too_ much fun, I'll rip that symbiote out the _hard_ way.*

They didn't seem to hear the thought. Wasn't _that_ comforting. Instead, they just moved off into the living room to grab her jacket.

But before the colonel could even get back to the table...

"Attention!" a resonant, amplified, and oh-too-familiar voice came through the walls.

Daniel knew it too. "That's Apophis," he said, rising from the table as a couple thousand emotions ran across his face.

Apophis.

Through a bullhorn.

Sweet....

Where was a nice fifty-cal when you needed one?

"We know that you are inside," Apophis went on. 

Brilliant deduction, you piece of...

"You will surrender yourself to me..." 

Not gonna happen...

"And any others you may have with you, Tok'ra!"

Huh?!

His eyes snapped to Martouf before he'd had any intention of doing so. "He's after _you_?"

Granted, the Tok'ra versus Goa'uld thing was pretty heated, but Snake-boy had always wanted to get at him and the rest of SG-1 first. 

Of course, nothing _else_ was making sense today, so....

"I apologize," the Tok'ra was saying, with one of those innocently earnest expressions only the young could carry off. "I did not intend to cause you any trouble."

That's what they all say.

"I give you one more chance to surrender, Tok'ra!"

Yeah, right...sure you damned sonuvabitch...

"C'mon in," Daniel muttered. "I'd like to give you a piece of my mind...."

The colonel rolled his eyes. "Not if it's done by him blowing a piece of your mind _off_." Where in the hell did the kid get that bloodthirsty streak? 

Oh...yeah....

Damn.

Meanwhile, Martouf was shaking his head. "I cannot allow you to be harmed," he declared softly. "I will leave at once."

And before anyone could say a word, he was gone.

Yeah, stealthy was _definitely_ a good word for the Tok'ra....

Subtle, however, was _not_ a good word for the Goa'uld.

As they quickly found out.

Without so much as huffing or puffing, Apophis blew the front door in.

Oh, the insurance company wasn't gonna like this...

"Where is he?" the Goa'uld demanded, as he and half a dozen Jaffa stormed in.

Somehow...seeing Snake-boy being typically evil was actually comforting. Nice to know that some things never changed. "Where's who?"

The other's eyes flashed-- literally-- in anger. "The Tok'ra," he clarified, through obviously clenched teeth. "Where is he?"

With luck, Idaho. "I have no idea who you're talking about," he lied easily. "Now, if you don't mind, this is a private meal."

With a boss who, by the look of mute disbelief on his face, was very likely going to fire him, after all this....

In response, Apophis' chin went up. 

That was never a good sign....

"You will tell me where he is," the Goa'uld demanded softly. "Or I will destroy you all."

Yep. Some things never changed.

"What do you care?" 

All attention went to Daniel, who-- God help them all-- had that "I'm having a psychotic break" look in his eye. "Daniel..."

The younger man ignored him-- no surprise there-- and advanced on the Goa'uld. "Why so interested in Sam's boyfriend?" he pressed. 

*Daniel, _shut up_...*

"Trying to steal her, too?!"

"Daniel!" What _was_ it with that kid? Traumatic stress was one thing, but this was going way off the scale....

Apophis just stared at the younger man coldly. "I have taken only what is mine."

Oh _Hell_...

The first flush of rage darkened Daniel's cheeks as he took a step forward. "Why you--"

He cut himself off as Carter-- with her usual sense-- grabbed hold of the younger man, preventing him from doing anything _else_ that was likely to get him killed. "We don't know who you're talking about," she told Apophis calmly. "I haven't seen Martouf in days. No one has."

The Goa'uld's eyes narrowed, staring at her.

Then they flashed on.

Not good...definitely not good....

"I do not believe you," Apophis said, and he raised his hand.

His hand, with its ever-present ribbon device.

Which he then pointed right at the colonel...

Joy.

So much for that whole protected insanity bit....

"You will tell me where he is," the Goa'uld insisted, and the centre jewel thing on the device began to glow. "Or I will kill your father."

Wait...how did Apophis know...?

...oh, never mind....

"I don't _know_ where he is!" she insisted. 

"She doesn't!" Daniel threw in.

Nice try, Danny Boy...too bad you're not exactly a reliable source for him...

"I do not believe you," the Goa'uld repeated, and the glow began to spread toward him.

Good-bye...odd world...

The light grew blinding...then faded.

And Apophis was gone.

And the Jaffa were gone.

And he was...still breathing.

Plus the door was fixed.

Okay...yeah, _that_ was unexpected....

"What the hell was that?" Hammond asked, speaking for the first time in ages.

He got his answer faster than anyone could've expected.

The light came again...depositing a small, grey, large-eyed alien.

In a police uniform.

Oh...it couldn't be...

"Hello, O'Neill," Thor said, tipping his...hat...to them all. 

It was...

Look, everyone, a deus ex machina...kinda....

"Hello, children," the alien greeted, turning to Carter and Daniel. "And greetings to you as well, Teal'c."

"Hi, Uncle Thor," the...kids... chorused, as Teal'c merely nodded.

Uncle Teal'c...Uncle Thor...this family tree must've been in Love Canal to get so warped...

"I have removed the Goa'uld threat," Thor went on, oblivious to that fun lightheaded spinning feeling that the colonel was experiencing yet again. "You and your friends will come to no harm."

And before he could say "thanks"...the light returned and the Asgard was gone.

*I am having a very weird day....*

But, at least dinner was over.

Hammond rose from the table, and approached him warily. "Is this a typical night around here?" he asked.

*God, I hope not...* "Not exactly," he replied, somewhat weakly.

The other just nodded. "Glad to hear it."

Uh-huh....

Hammond managed a smile as he shook the colonel's hand. "It's certainly been interesting."

Ya think?

"Good night, Jack. I'll see you tomorrow."

Assuming the Mir didn't crash into the house or something....

Mercifully, the boss said quick good-byes to the rest of the family, and left.

Silently, the rest of them began to clear the table.

And then, the phone rang.

When was this day going to _end_...?!

He was so tired....

But, against his better judgment, the colonel picked up the phone. "Yeah?"

Martouf, if this is you....

"Mr. O'Neill," an annoyed, familiar man's voice replied. "This your neighbour, Charlie Kawalsky."

"Kawalsky?!"

Jeez...talk about your long-distance phone calls....

"Yeah," the other confirmed. "Look, you wanna keep it down over there? Some of us are trying to rest here!"

And as the phone slammed down in his ear, something began to twist inside the colonel's stomach-- and it wasn't pot roast. "Yeah," he replied quietly, even though he knew he couldn't be heard.

Then, as he replaced the receiver in its cradle, waves of weariness began crashing down upon him in earnest. Insanity was just too tiring to do all day. Especially after the adrenaline wore off.

While he made his way over to the couch, his legs barely able to move, he could hear behind him the others, still taking care of things in the kitchen. That was nice...good to know they could function without him, for a bit, anyway....

As he fell onto the warm cushions, he thought maybe he could find something nice and mindless on tv...something to completely relax....

He never even got past turning the set on.

*

The next thing he noticed was that there was a cold, wet tongue licking his cheek.

Oh, that had _so_ better be the dog....

Taking a few seconds to muster the energy, he managed to force one eye open enough to confirm that it was, in fact, the dog.

Good. 

However...there was a suspiciously Daniel-like shape approaching from across the room...

"Jack?" the younger man said, kneeling down beside him. 

*He called me Jack...*

Good sign, definitely...

"Did I wake you?"

Had he been asleep?

That would explain much...

"How do you feel?" Daniel pressed, laying a cool hand against his forehead. "Your fever's gone."

Fever?

Oh...right...the flu...getting sent home from work...waking up in the oddest alternate reality that anyone could possibly conceive of...

"Jack?"

And the archaeologist was waiting for an answer, wasn't he. "I'm fine," he managed, feeling the rawness of infection reminding him of the ever annoying virus that'd made itself at home in him. "I just...had a dream, that's all."

The younger man's eyes narrowed in concern. "A nightmare?"

Yes...no...sorta.... 

"Not quite," he eventually chose. "You were there..." he went on. "Carter was there...and Teal'c was...and you were all acting really _weird_..."

Daniel just looked at him skeptically. "I...see."

Of course, he probably didn't.

Not that it mattered.

After all, O'Neill was home now.

And there was no place like...

...oh, whatever.

It was all just...too confusing....

And so, closing his eyes, he went back to sleep.

**The End**

  


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> Author's notes: This story is dedicated with love and affection to my father, Opener of Jars, Hater of Suits, and who was MacGyvering spare parts into useful devices back when it was still called "improvisation". Miss you, Dad. Love you always.

* * *

> © March, 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.   
> 

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